I caved the other day and bought a box of raspberries.

When I saw the carton at Trader Joe’s, I remembered Bainbridge Island. Our family friends live there, a tiny island off the coast of Washington state, and my mom and I were lucky enough to visit last summer. I fell in love with the ocean, still icy cold in July, and with the sky, an endless band of blue pressed against the beach. One morning I woke at sunrise to go crab fishing. Another afternoon I walked “downtown,” which referred to two buildings – a general store and the post office.

But my happiest memories are the times I spent grazing in their garden. Fresh artichokes, several potato varieties, the sweetest snap peas I’ve ever tasted. And raspberries. I ate handfuls of raspberries until I just couldn’t. I craved the way each section burst with juice, still warm from the sunshine. Some berries were so tender they broke in my hand, staining my fingertips pink.

Standing there in the grocery store, I thought about all that, and about all the other good things that came with the garden. Sundresses and lolling dog tongues and a boat that smelled like crab bait. And I knew I couldn’t leave without those raspberries.

I hadn’t had a raspberry since July! I was so excited I didn’t even wait to get back to my dorm, just opened the carton right on the train. These berries definitely looked the part. Big as thimbles, red as lipstick, the tops curved into perfect “O”s. I popped one into my mouth and waited for magic.

I felt the seeds crack between my teeth. The berry barely yielded any juice. Bitter disappointment.

It’s not that I can never eat another raspberry unless it’s just-picked and still breathing. I’m not on Bainbridge Island. I don’t expect that level of fantasy perfection in everyday life. But I think I’ve learned my lesson about buying imported raspberries in the dead of winter.

Instead, I decided to make some new memories using a jar of raspberry jam. I still have my baking box – a steamer trunk my dad and I refurbished the summer before college – snuggled beneath my dorm bed. Inside, I’ve stashed cake pans, half sheets, piping tips, cookie cutters, ceramic ramekins for baking custards… and one very weathered, very humbled 9×9” pan. I washed the pan twice, piled it high with ingredients, and carried it down the hall to the kitchen.

Raspberry Oat Crumble Bars don’t disappoint. They look good on a picnic table in July, and in a college common room in February. The bars bake up into three layers of shortbread goodness, sweet raspberry, and buttery crumble. They taste like brown sugar and old-fashioned oats, with a healthy smear of jam oozing out the middle.

But what I especially like about these bars is that you can tweak them to make your own memories. Add toasted coconut or fresh fruit. Throw in a handful of pecans, some chocolate chips, or a couple healthy shakes of cinnamon. Use apple butter, blackberry jam, or your neighbor’s homemade peach preserves.

Here’s what I’ll remember next time I make these bars: the weight of the jar in my hand as I stood in the grocery store and considered the possibilities. Bubbling jam as I scooted the pan out of the oven. The crackle of parchment paper, buttery crumbs all over the table, and the look on my RA’s face when she walked in and blurted, “That smells so good!”

I like to think I’ll remember being a college student who still liked to eat well all year long.

My only note for this recipe – I decreased the sugar from the original recipe and thought they were great, but they’re definitely on the sweet side. I’d recommend using a quality jam that isn’t too sugary.

Raspberry Oat Crumble Bars
Tweaked from Gourmet
Makes an 9×9″ pan

1 1/4 cups flour
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 tsp salt
5 oz (10 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1 tablespoon milk
1 1/2 cups old fashioned oats
3/4 cup seedless raspberry jam

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Mix the flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor, then add the butter and pulse until a dough starts to form. Blend in the milk. (If you don’t have a food processor you could do this with an electric mixer, a pastry cutter, or even a fork and man power.) Transfer the dough-bits to a bowl and knead in the oats until well combined.

Put 3/4 cup dough off to the side (this will be used as the crumble.) Press the rest of the dough evenly into a buttered 9×9″ metal baking pan (I lined the pan with parchment paper and skipped the buttering). Spread the jam evenly over the top (if the jam seems tough to spread, heating it a little could help.) Crumble the reserved dough evenly over the top.

Bake in the center of the oven until golden, 20-25 minutes, and cool completely in the pan on a rack. Use a knife to loosen the sides, lift it out, and cut into bars on a cutting board.

Printer-Friendly Version - Raspberry Oat Crumble Bars

We don’t spend hours in the kitchen every evening.

Sometimes, I just pop a bowl of cold fried rice into the microwave for a quicker than quick dinner. On Tuesdays my mother and I steam broccoli, chop watermelon into chunks, sit down to watch Chopped and call it a night. I’ve even leaned against the fridge and eaten cold chicken salad straight out of the tupperware. Our kitchen is always stocked with enough leftovers to make us low-maintenance weeknight diners.

Weekends, though… That’s an entirely different matter. Sometimes the whole day revolves our food. My mother often wakes up before me to brush her bread with an egg glaze, and we juggle the oven so I can bake biscuits. She’s the queen of scrambled eggs and freshly squeezed juice, and I can press any berry into a special maple syrup.

My parents and I frequently head to the farmer’s market right after breakfast to shop for dinner, usually without a meal plan in mind. We pick whatever’s fresh and seasonal and bright, whatever inspires hunger even though we just ate. My family has been known to spend an afternoon rolling out pasta directly on our dinner table, marinating fish, picking through sun-warmed herbs. Then, we feast.

Don’t be fooled, though. There are plenty of awful mistakes, pain in the rear ingredients, and even the occasional temper. Our kitchen is what my dad likes to call a “two-butt work area.” The three of us barely fit inside it, and with the two dogs brushing against our ankles, it’s a very tight squeeze.

Usually, it’s chaotic frustration. As the sky darkens, my dad works from both the stove and the cutting board, on opposite ends of the kitchen. My mother can’t help but clean dishes in real time, sometimes whisking bowls off into the sink before we’re through with them. And me? I’m just trying to get to the oven, which is between the two of them. Add Tilly, who begs at your feet until you step on her, and Otis, who grunts whenever you drop a scrap – it’s an experience.

Yet once we carry plates to the table, settling down in our usual chairs, it’s calm. It’s relaxed. It’s all about passing plates and trying a bit of everything. It’s the subdued “Mmm!” at first bite. Cooking together is hectic, but it’s always worth it. There is something intangible about a meal created with your family… an hour of satisfaction, and a lifetime of memories.

Usually when I’m in the kitchen, I’m alone. Sometimes I’m even the only one in the entire house, especially now in the summer. I love baking in the serene calm of morning, with light streaming from the window above the sink and the French doors. It’s quiet, except for blue jays rustling in the backyard pines and the faint rhythm of my breath. It’s silent enough for me to sense the song of the kitchen in my ears and in my soul.

When I’m baking by myself, the kitchen is perfect for one person – spacious, even. I can’t help but feel that there’s no better way to spend life than alone with my thoughts and my Kitchen Aid. That is, until the weekend rolls around again. Then I’m weaving between my parents, half laughing and half exasperated, five minutes away from “dinner’s ready.” And at that moment, there’s no other place I’d rather be.

They’re opposite situations, and I like that. I like the contrast, and the fact that such distinct experiences can occur in the same room. The differences make each experience memorable and sweet, even if they don’t seem to complement each other at first glance.

I love juxtaposed differences, in life and in food. Sweet with salty, hot with cool, creamy with crunchy… Enter these watermelon bars, the perfect example of just that.

The bottom layer is the simplest watermelon sorbet, a snap to whirl together. It freezes somewhat hard and icy, but it’s utterly refreshing. The sorbet is spread with a basil-lime semifreddo, which is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever made. The semifreddo makes up for all the richness the sorbet lacks, whisked with sweetened condensed milk and lightened with whipped cream. It’s so thick and creamy, it should be illegal. The zing of lime and smooth, floral aroma of basil pair gorgeously with melon.

It could be a clash of flavors and textures, but I think they make a beautifully balanced combination. Together, they pack the epitome of summer in every melting bite.

I’d had these chilled bars in the back of my mind since I first saw them in Gourmet magazine two years ago. I finally froze a batch because I had a hunk of watermelon in the fridge and a bag of limes perfuming the counter. I threw in basil, my favorite herb, since it reminds me of everything summer.

My dad didn’t like the bars as much as I did, but only because he felt the two frozen desserts could be paired differently. He suggested multiple, thinner layers of sorbet and semifreddo, for a multi-layered bar or perhaps for a swirled scoop of ice cream. Both great potential variations on this dessert.

The flavors in the bars are very bold, especially the citrus. Don’t be afraid! If you know you’re not a fan, leave out the lime zest in the semifreddo. I liked everything as is.

Frozen Watermelon Basil-Lime Bars
Concept and Semifreddo layer adapted from Gourmet
Watermelon Sorbet layer a 17 and Baking original
Makes a 9”x9” pan

Watermelon Sorbet
1 1/2 pounds (24 oz) seedless watermelon, rinds removed
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier (or tequila, rum, etc) (optional)
Juice of a small lemon

Basil-Lime Semifreddo
One (14 oz) can sweetened condensed milk
3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh basil
Zest of a small lime
Juice of two small limes
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream, chilled

Line the bottom and sides of a 9”x9” pan with plastic wrap so that there is some overhang on all four sides. (I used aluminum foil, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It flaked later on when I cut the bars.) Place the lined pan in the freezer while making the watermelon sorbet.

To make the sorbet, blend the watermelon in a blender or food processor until smooth. Add the sugar, Grand Marnier, and lemon juice and blend until very smooth. Chill the mixture in the freezer for 30 minutes or until very cold, then churn in an ice cream maker. Spread the churned sorbet in the prepared pan and freeze at least 2 hours, or until the sorbet has hardened.

To make the semifreddo, heat the sweetened condensed milk with the basil in a small saucepan over medium heat until it steams. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature. When cool, whisk in the zest and lime juice until smooth. In another bowl, whisk the whipping cream until it just reaches stiff peaks. Fold it into the sweetened condensed milk gently with a rubber spatula.

Smooth over the watermelon sorbet in the 9”x9” pan and freeze until solid, preferably overnight. I also recommend putting plates in the freezer at this point so when you’re ready to serve the bars, you can use chilled plates and the bars won’t melt as quickly.

When ready to serve, use the overhanging plastic wrap to lift out the bars. Cut into squares and serve on chilled plates.

Printer-Friendly Version – Frozen Watermelon Basil-Lime Bars

I was almost fooled by the week of sunny weather Seattle’s seen, but the rain has finally begun to pour.

Just last week, the cherry blossom trees stretched over my head in airy, arching bloom, but these days I have to duck to avoid the low branches laden with water. Rain streaks down the windows, bathing everything in a steely blue glow. Umbrellas pop open like strange flowers when I walk outside. In the mornings I wear red rain boots to class, and in the evenings I fall asleep with the sound of rain in my hair.

I usually like this kind of weather, but right now, I can’t stand it. I’m impatient for summer. Impatient for dusty sidewalk chalk and melting Creamsicles, but mostly for everything summer represents – freedom, relaxation. No stress. There are only two months to go, but I don’t think I can make myself wait.

I am tired of being patient.

I was patient all through Christmas break, through the slush of February and the bitter chill of March. Four months to go until college letters… now two months… one month to go… Every day I switched between cheery confidence and desperate doubt. It was like picking petals off a daisy – they’ll accept me, they’ll accept me not…

After months of waiting, I finally received the last of my college decisions yesterday. Of the eight schools I applied to, I was accepted at five. I was waitlisted at two very good universities. But the only school I really wanted to go to, the only school that could stir any passion in me at all, was the last one to send out decisions.

The whole day was simply killing time. I came home early and found that I had nothing to do. I ate a banana. I checked the mailbox (it was empty.) I read a book of short stories without understanding any of them. When the decision was available online, my brain staggered. I fumbled my way to the website and watched the page load with agonizing slowness.

I skimmed the first line and immediately knew. The letter was brief, polite, encouraging. It was brutal.

I read it, read it again, read it a third time with burning eyes. Emotions passed through me like images on a strip of film – horror, confusion, anger, pain, exhaustion, heartache, sorrow – until I couldn’t feel anything and laid face down on my bed, overwhelmed. Then I cried until my skin was as taut and my body was as hollow as a drum.

Have you ever felt like you’ve been waiting patiently your whole life for something? Something to validate all the work you’ve done? That’s how I felt. I’m just so disappointed in myself and I can’t help but feel wounded and unsure. I curse the thought that my only outright rejection is the only one I can’t take. I keep thinking about what I could have done, how I could have been better. I know it’s useless, but you aren’t rational when your heart is breaking.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve moved on, that the rain has cleared and I can smell summer around the bend and life is good. Not yet. It hasn’t hit me, but I know it will.

I didn’t break down today, as miserable as I felt every time I had to answer with that sad little smile, “Yep… rejected.” When I came home I wanted to be in the kitchen. And more than anything, I wanted to write. Typing out this post has been as good as Tylenol so far.

So much of my future is a mystery, but there are some things I can be certain of. Family, good food, and good company. I can be sure of ice cold lemonade in the summer to come and spiced pumpkin pie in the autumn to follow. I can be sure that luck will be with me wherever I go, though it may not always seem like luck at first, and that I will always have the patience to weather the wait.

These bars come together and bake in no time at all. Instant gratification, no patience required. For now, I can be grateful for that.

[PS: Happy birthday Grandma. Love you.]

These bars are really, really good. I’m still feeling pretty down. I could channel the hurt into a post, but I don’t really have the motivation to talk much about straight food. The bars are soft with slightly crisp edges and a bit of chew. The almond flavor is very good without being too overwhelming. Everybody liked the drops of blackberry jam and the pretty drizzle of icing. They went really quickly and I found them very addicting.

Blackberry Jam Almond Bars
Recipe barely adapted from Sophistimom
Makes a half sheet of bars

Bars
1 cup (2 sticks or 224g) unsalted butter at room temperature
2 cups (380g) granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon pure almond extract
4 eggs
3 cups (300g) unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup seedless blackberry jam

Drizzle
1 cup powdered sugar
3 tablespoons cream
1 teaspoon pure almond extract

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a half sheet (13″x18″ rimmed sheet) with butter or nonstick spray.

Cream together butter and sugar with an electric mixer until smooth and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes. Add in eggs, one at a time, incorporating well after each addition. Add in vanilla and almond extract. Slowly add flour and salt, and mix until just incorporated.

Spread the batter into the prepared pan. It’s okay if you can’t quite get the corners, since it will spread during baking. Drop teaspoonfuls of jam evenly over the batter. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the edges start to turn golden brown.

Allow to cool, then cut into squares (I used a pizza roller and a ruler to get even cuts.) Whisk together the powdered sugar, cream, and almond extract, and drizzle over the bars.

Printer-Friendly Recipe – Blackberry Jam Almond Bars

Lately, I’ve been in a writing rut.

I’ve been in food ruts where I made the same types of desserts over and over, and I’ve had weeks where inspiration simply escaped me. I’ve had photography ruts, too, where every post would somehow have the same style of photographs. I think every food blogger has those moments where you long to shoot images of vintage cars, textured bark or copper kettles, anything but another cookie.

These days, I haven’t had any recent baking disasters and my photography can only improve. But I’ve never experienced a writing rut before, and even stringing those two words together makes my heart ache like a bruised peach. I can’t describe how stifling and disheartening it feels to have nothing to say. I have never felt speechless before, and it makes me feel cloudless and empty.

I tried to pinpoint where it started, and I think I know. Last month the blog received more attention than usual and got some national exposure. I was out of town the week that it happened, and when I came home, I was startled by the sudden spike in subscriptions and Facebook friend requests. All my numbers had gone up, thirty times my usual number of hits, and more comments than I could read in an hour.

At first, I was exhilarated. I couldn’t wait to post again, and I was so touched that 17 and Baking meant something to so many new people. But as I started sifting through the comments, I encountered something I’d never expected to read on my site – wisps of negativity that deflated any of my short-lived joy.

I’ve never received disparaging comments before. I mean, it’s one thing when a recipe doesn’t work out for somebody or when I’ve made a silly mistake on my post. But amongst the flood of new comments were little pebbles of cruelty, a silt of snide comments and offhand criticisms. I knew those people shouldn’t matter. I knew nobody with a dream or a zest for life would write “Who cares?” on a 17 year old’s blog.

But honestly? I’m not kidding anyone, especially not myself. Those comments did matter to me.

I remember for the first time, dreading my next post. Although only a tiny percentage of comments from the recent exposure had been discouraging, the damage was done. I considered writing about my hesitations and reservations, or about how I found the strength to move on. But nothing I wrote rang true, and ultimately, I didn’t want to display my disappointment and tarnished confidence to the world. That isn’t the kind of person I am.

I wrote a lighthearted post instead, and kept my feelings to myself for once. And somehow, inexplicably, I lost my voice for a few weeks. I was unsatisfied with everything I wrote, and I finally had the last straw when I rewrote last week’s post four times before posting, and still was unhappy with the result. I wanted to find my passion again.

Passion, not flour or sugar, is the life of this blog. I refuse to let it wilt, because this blog has truly had a tangible impact on my life. I can feel it stirring in the back of my mind when I’m home alone, making hot chocolate and trying to find matching socks. I feel it pulsing through my veins when I walk to class, wet leaves still clinging to my boots. And I feel it most of all in my heart when I read your comments and emails, because nothing makes me as happy and enriches my life as much as your words.

Last week I discovered that I was nominated in the category of “Best Weblog By a Teen” in the 10th annual Weblog Awards, and it lifted my spirits in an unbelievable way. I felt like I was made out of thin air, or quite possibly liquid sunshine. I’m so honored and thrilled to be part of this year’s nominations!

Browsing this year’s nominees has also shown me plenty of great sites I wouldn’t have found on my own. None of the other teen nominees are specifically food bloggers, but their interests range from current issues to fashion to daily ponderings. I definitely encourage you to check out this year’s weblogs and maybe even vote for 17 and Baking! [2/28/10 Update: You might like to know that I won. :) ]

I finally feel like I have found my voice again with this post. The words came out easily once more, like the dusk I’ve been swept in has finally dissipated. When I finished writing this post and read it over in a final edit, I felt a deep satisfaction that I’d nearly forgotten.

I don’t know if it’s the nomination, the passing of time, or the fact that this month’s Daring Bakers challenge was pleasantly easy. All I know is that I am bursting with metaphors and adjectives, I have so much that I want to say and so much I want to learn. I’m so lucky to know where my passions are and to have the means to pursue them with everything I have, and I can’t help but look forward to February with a considerably lighter heart.

The January 2010 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Lauren of Celiac Teen. Lauren chose Gluten-Free Graham Wafers and Nanaimo Bars as the challenge for the month. The sources she based her recipe on are 101 Cookbooks and www.nanaimo.ca.

Here in Washington state we don’t get nanaimo bars, or at least I’ve never seen one. I’ve seen them on Tastespotting and thought they looked good, so I was excited to see that they were this month’s challenge. Unfortunately, I can’t say that I liked them. I have a sweet tooth, but even without the maple flavoring, these were tooth achingly sweet. They were also much too rich in the way that an overly buttery buttercream is too rich.

Nanaimo bars have three layers – chocolate on top, a middle buttercream layer, and a cocoa-coconut bottom layer made with graham crackers. For the chocolate layer, I used some unsweetened chocolate to tWe were encouraged to make gluten-free graham crackers for the challenge, but I didn’t have the ingredients on hand and made the original recipe instead. It just so happens I’ve made this exact graham cracker recipe before for my Autumn S’mores, so I’ll give the gluten-free version below.

Gluten-Free Graham Wafers
Adapted from 101.cookbooks
Makes about 10 large graham crackers (more than that for me)

1 cup (138 g) (4.9 ounces) Sweet rice flour (also known as glutinous rice flour)
3/4 cup (100 g) (3.5 ounces) Tapioca Starch/Flour
1/2 cup (65 g) (2.3 ounces) Sorghum Flour
1 cup (200 g) (7.1 ounces) Dark Brown Sugar, Lightly packed
1 teaspoon (5 mL) Baking soda
3/4 teaspoon (4 mL) Kosher Salt
7 tablespoons (100 g) (3 ½ ounces) Cold Unsalted Butter (Cut into 1-inch cubes)
1/3 cup (80 mL) Honey, Mild-flavoured such as clover.
5 tablespoons (75 mL) Whole Milk
2 tablespoons (30 mL) Pure Vanilla Extract

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade, combine the flours, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt. Pulse on low to incorporate. Add the butter and pulse on and off, until the mixture is the consistency of a coarse meal. If making by hand, combine aforementioned dry ingredients with a whisk, then cut in butter until you have a coarse meal. No chunks of butter should be visible.

In a small bowl or liquid measuring cup, whisk together the honey, milk and vanilla. Add to the flour mixture until the dough barely comes together. It will be very soft and sticky.

Turn the dough onto a surface well-floured with sweet rice flour and pat the dough into a rectangle about 1 inch thick. Wrap in plastic and chill until firm, about 2 hours, or overnight.

Divide the dough in half and return one half to the refrigerator. Sift an even layer of sweet rice flour onto the work surface and roll the dough into a long rectangle, about 1/8 inch thick. The dough will be quite sticky, so flour as necessary. Cut into 4 by 4 inch squares. [To make things easier on myself, since the bars just need crumbs, I used a cookie cutter to quickly cut out stars.] Gather the scraps together and set aside. Place wafers on one or two parchment-lined baking sheets. Chill until firm, about 30 to 45 minutes. Repeat with the second batch of dough.

Adjust the rack to the upper and lower positions and preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (180 degrees Celsius).  Gather the scraps together into a ball, chill until firm, and reroll. Dust the surface with more sweet rice flour and roll out the dough to get a couple more wafers. Prick the wafers with toothpick or fork, not all the way through, in two or more rows.

Bake for 25 minutes [more like 12], until browned and slightly firm to the touch, rotating sheets halfway through to ensure even baking. Might take less, and the starting location of each sheet may determine its required time. The ones that started on the bottom browned faster.

To make crumbs: When cooled completely, place enough wafers in food processor to make 1 ¼ cups (300 mL) of crumbs. Another way to do this is to place in a large ziplock bag, force all air out and smash with a rolling pin until wafers are crumbs.

Maple and Walnut Nanaimo Bars
Makes an 8×8 Pan

Bottom Layer

1/2 cup (115 g) (4 ounces) Unsalted Butter
1/4 cup (50 g) (1.8 ounces) Granulated Sugar
5 tablespoons (75 mL) Unsweetened Cocoa
1 Large Egg, Beaten
1 1/4 cups (300 mL) (160 g) (5.6 ounces) Gluten Free Graham Wafer Crumbs
1/2 cup (55 g) (1.9 ounces) Walnuts (Finely chopped)
1 cup (130 g) (4.5 ounces) Coconut (Shredded)

Melt unsalted butter, sugar and cocoa in top of a double boiler. Add egg and stir to cook and thicken. Remove from heat. Stir in crumbs, nuts and coconut. Press firmly into an ungreased 8 by 8 inch pan.

Maple “Buttercream” Middle Layer

1/2 cup (115 g) (4 ounces) Unsalted Butter
2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons (40 mL) Heavy Cream
2 tablespoons (30 mL) Vanilla Custard Powder (Such as Bird’s, or Vanilla pudding mix)
2 cups (254 g) (8.9 ounces) Icing (Powdered) Sugar
2 teaspoons (10 mL) Maple Syrup
1/4 teaspoon Vanilla Extract
Dash of cinnamon

Cream butter, cream, custard powder, icing sugar, maple syrup, vanilla extract, and cinnamon together well. Beat until light in colour. Spread over bottom layer.

Chocolate Top Layer

3 ounces (87 g) Semi-sweet chocolate
1 ounce (29 g) Unsweetened (Baker’s) chocolate
2 tablespoons (28 g) (1 ounce) Unsalted Butter

Melt chocolate and butter over low heat. Let cool to room temperature. When cooled, but still liquid, spread over the top of the bars.

Printer Friendly Version – Maple and Walnut Nanaimo Bars

When I was in 5th grade, my class went on an overnight trip to a pioneer farm. We took a tour of the farm, learned about the equipment and tools, and slept that evening in a real pioneer cabin. The next morning after breakfast, we were given our authentic pioneer chores. Mine was cleaning up after the farm’s pig, Susan Bacon Anthony. I was not amused.

While some of my friends pressed apples into cider, and other classmates tried out the tools at the blacksmith house, I trudged through the mud towards the barn. Susan Bacon Anthony was a huge pig, bright pink and vivacious. My mood lightened considerably even as I raked out her pen, and by the end of the morning, I was in love. I considered the possibilities of owning a pet pig.

By the time my parents arrived to pick me up, I had an announcement to make – I was becoming a vegetarian so that I never had to eat a Susan Bacon Anthony, or any of her friends, ever again.

My parents seemed complacent enough throughout the drive home. When they started on breakfast, though, my dad asked casually, “This means no bacon for you, right?”

As a child I was passionate about bacon. I couldn’t get enough of its smokiness, its crisp and chewy texture, its salty goodness. But at ten years old I stood my ground and agreed – no bacon. I told myself it was a sacrifice I’d have to make, and I pictured Susan Bacon Anthony’s corkscrew tail and thin, floppy ears.

As the pan sizzled and the house filled with the smell of bacon, I ended up going outside. I clutched a glass of orange juice and sipped it fervently, trying not to give in. Ten minutes into our breakfast, I caved, and took a piece of bacon from the center plate. We all knew the two hour vegetarianism had only been a half-hearted attempt at best, and I haven’t tried to play the vegetarian card since.

I’m not fooling anybody.

When faced with bacon brownies, I think many people are divided. Some might have seen the unusual combination of bacon and chocolate before in fancy restaurants or among foodie circles. But more commonly, I think most people think the idea of bacon and chocolate together sounds disgusting. You are not alone, but you might want to give it a fair chance.

My friend M- is very conservative about food. Once, when I was just starting to bake, I brought a cake with me to a friend’s house. We had cut the cake, transferred the slices to plates, and passed around the forks. My friends had the first bite halfway to their mouths when M- casually asked, “So what is this exactly?”

I answered truthfully and replied, “It’s a chocolate cake with a chocolate-sour cream frosting.” I looked up and saw that M- had put his fork right back down onto the plate, and my other friends followed his lead. “Sour cream?” He just couldn’t wrap his mind around sour cream in dessert, despite my protests, and not a single bite of the cake was even tried. Frustrated, I had to transfer all the slices back to the cake carrier and bring the untouched cake home.

The following day, I made a sour cream banana pound cake with sour cream frosting and brought it to my friends. With an entire cup of sour cream in the cake alone, they were truly about to eat their words. When the cake was fully consumed, M- having had his second slice, I told them the truth. Sour cream is delicious, and you’d like it if you gave it a chance.

After I made these brownies, M- happened to stop by. Since I began baking he’s become more adventurous, and he agreed to try one of the brownies even though he was repulsed by the combination of bacon and chocolate. He accepted the piece, examined it carefully, and then took a small bite. He proclaimed it “pretty good.”

Chocolate and bacon actually make a natural combination. The brownies are dense and fudgy, and the crumbled bits of bacon add a bit of texture and a hint of smokiness. In the same way that coffee provides a solid foundation for chocolate, bacon adds something special and elevates a simple brownie to something more.

And I can’t help but think that if maybe everyone gave Bacon Brownies a chance, we could all stand together on something, despite our differences. Bacon and chocolate = world peace.

I made these brownies for my dad, who couldn’t get a bacon brownie he’d eaten once before out of his mind. I did a bit of research, trying to figure out the best way to combine the two ingredients, and found that a very loyal and enthusiastic fan base for bacon exists.

While I don’t think I’m passionate enough to go to Bacon Camp yet, I’ll admit this embarrassing tidbit. As I was cooking the bacon for these brownies, I started singing “True Colors” under my breath. Without even realizing it, I was changing the lyrics.

And I see your true bacon
Shining through
I see your true bacon
And that’s why I love you…!

My dad heard, and he couldn’t stop laughing. Such is the power of bacon.

Bacon Brownies
Adapted from The Hungry Engineer
Makes a 9″x9″ pan of thin, delicious brownies

4 oz unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped
4 oz (8 tablespoons) butter
1 1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 large eggs
4 1/2 oz flour (about 1 cup)
2 tablespoons natural cocoa (not Dutch-processed)
4 strips bacon

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9″x9″ pan and set in parchment paper, letting the two ends hang over the edge. This makes a “sling” that will make lifting the brownies out of the pan very easy. Grease the parchment.

Heat a large pan over medium heat. When hot, lay in the strips of bacon. You want them to be crispy. Let them cook on each side until sufficiently cooked, then transfer to a plate with several layers of paper towel. Once cool, cut or rip the bacon into bits. I found that bits the size of your fingernail were best.

Place the chopped chocolate and the butter in a metal bowl, and set it over a pan of gently simmering water. Stir the mixture until the smooth and the chocolate has melted completely. Remove from the heat and let cool slightly, then whisk in the sugar, salt, and vanilla. Then add in the eggs, one at a time, stirring until smooth.

Sift in the flour and cocoa, and whisk to combine. Stir in the bacon bits.

Scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Bake brownies 30-40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the brownies cool in the pan for a few minutes, then use the parchment sling to lift the brownies out of the pan. Transfer them to a wire rack and let cool completely before cutting into bars.

Printer Friendly Version – Bacon Brownies

I used to love the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as a kid. Chocolate waterfalls, ice cream that never melts, everlasting gobstoppers? It seemed almost obscene! I am a chocoholic who might need rehab, a cinnamon-sugar addict who suffers from withdrawals, a sweetened coconut junkie. I have quite the sweet tooth, if you didn’t notice.

My mom, on the other hand, does not think much of sugar. No, her vice is salt. Chinese onion pancakes, crisp ridged potato chips, pretzels, these are what tempt her. She might nibble on a cookie, but there is no real desire there. Salty, sweet… compatibility might seem impossible. But whichever you are – a sugar fiend or a salt enthusiast – you might need to sit down before you take a look at these bars.

Sweet. Salty. Nutty. Crunchy. Crumbly. Chocolaty. Caramelly. I can’t even think of something witty to say about these addictive bars. Just look at another picture.

A chocolate studded brown sugar and coffee shortbread, cooked crisp so that the edges are caramelly. Then chocolate is spread over the warm bar and the whole thing is topped with salted roasted peanuts. Peanut-Chocolate-Caramel Crunch Bars. Goodness.

They were the perfect gift for my lovely neighbor who did my prom hair out of sheer kindness. Nine thirty at night, only two days before the dance, I knocked on her door with my hair in knots and frustration pouring out of me. I’m sure my desperation was overpowering, but for whatever reason, she was sweet enough to fit me into her packed schedule. When I asked her what kind of sweets she liked, she simply said, “I like nuts.”

And oh, she got nuts.

You might remember another thing from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – the amazing television commercials that Willy Wonka was perfecting. These commercials would allow the viewer to reach into the screen and sample his incredible chocolate. I used to wish it was real so that I could taste one of those chocolate bars, letting it melt in my mouth. Well, while those commercials don’t exist yet, you don’t need them to experience these bars for yourself.

You’ve got the recipe.

This is an easy recipe that came together pretty quickly and made the house smell wonderful. The only thing I had a bit of trouble with was the melted chocolate on top – there didn’t seem to be enough to spread and I thought I needed more. But once all was done and the bars were cut, the chocolate was just right. The cookie and chocolate layers brought a lot of sweetness, but the nuts added texture and a salty kick.

It cut into really beautiful bars that I felt proud to deliver next door. After sampling a few, I packed the bars into a cute little tin.

To add a bit of a personal touch, I made my favorite flower-card. Unfolded, it looks like a white square. Opening it reveals another square, which conceals a third square. Completely opened, the card looks like a flower.

I wrote my thank you, folded it up, and made a cute paper bow to keep it shut.

I hope she enjoyed the bars as much as I did!

I would also like to quickly note that Dorie Greenspan, creator of this recipe, suggests cutting the bars into 2″x4″ rectangles, spreading one with vanilla ice cream, topping with another bar, and freezing for a decadent ice cream sandwich.

Peanut-Chocolate-Caramel Crunch Bars
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours
Makes a 9″x13″ pan

Shortbread Base
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp instant espresso powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
8 oz (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 oz bittersweet or milk chocolate, finely chopped

Topping
6 oz bittersweet or milk chocolate, finely chopped
3/4 cup chopped salted, roasted peanuts

Center a rack in the oven and preheat to 375 degrees F. Butter a 9″x13″ pan and line with foil so that some comes up over the edges. Butter the foil and put the pan on a baking sheet.

Whisk together the flour, espresso powder, salt, and cinnamon and set aside. In a mixer with a paddle attachment, beat the butter at medium speed for 3 minutes until smooth. Add the sugars and beat for another 3 minutes, until light and fluffy. Beat in the vanilla, then add the dry ingredients. Use a low speed and cover the mixer with a clean towel to avoid flour flying up. Mix until the dry ingredients are almost incorporated.

Add the chopped chocolate and mix until just combined, mixing by hand if necessary. Scrape the dough into the pan and smooth the top. The dough will be very thick and sticky and make a very thin layer. Use a spatula or your fingertips to make an even layer.

Bake 20-22 minutes, or until the base is very bubbly and beginning to pull from the sides. Transfer the pan to a rack and turn off the oven.

Sprinkle the chopped chocolate onto the bars and put back in the oven for 2-3 minutes, or until the chocolate is soft. Spread with a spatula or the back of a spoon into an even layer over the bars. Sprinkle the chopped peanuts and lightly press down with your fingertips, and let the bars cool to room temperature.

Carefully lift the bars out of the pan using the foil and cut into bars.

Printer Friendly Version – Peanut-Chocolate-Caramel Crunch Bars

PS: The following photo was taken at 8 PM with kitchen lights and even (gulp) flash. The quality is not so good. But I couldn’t resist showing you all my 2nd paid order… a cake shaped like underwear for a very funny birthday present. Chocolate cake, raspberry jam, the most spectacular lemon cream cheese frosting, pink icing ruffles, and a white chocolate bow.

The frosting around the bottom was damaged when the cake was transferred to the gold platter despite my crumb coat and best efforts, but I fixed it as well as I could after taking the photo!

Maybe it’s like this. There’s cream cheese, yeah? It’s tangy and dominant. It likes to ripple through everything. Cause hey. Cream cheese will make it taste better. Cream cheese is good for you. Cream cheese demands to get its way. (It’s the US, okay?)

Then there’s the chili powder. You don’t really notice how much ammunition it’s got until you take the first bite. Then you feel it, in the back of your mouth. It’s got a bit of heat, and it wants to be there. (Clearly the USSR!)

And the nutella. You’re not entirely sure what it’s doing there. It’s a bit of a surprise, a shock. You don’t want to underestimate it, and yet, you can’t help wonder what business nutella has in your brownie. (Obviously Cuba.)

And it’s like… They’re all together, on the playing field. (Brownie = earth.) They’re marbled together, but can’t possibly mix. In your mouth, you can’t decide which flavor wins. It’s too much wonderfulness to handle.

Alternatively, maybe it’s because, as my friend G- put it, they’re bomb. !!! I know. Not funny. Sorry.

…Orrrrrrr, maybe they’re Cold War Brownies because I (sort of) studied and baked at the same time. You decide.

No matter what, they’ll make a pack of exhausted, brain dead juniors smile again.

Yes, I confess. I came home from school, like I always do, already tired. This week I have a test every single day. Two tests on Thursday. Each test is at least two hours long. Today took three. We had to stay past the end of school, past the end of tutorial, writing 3 essays and answering short answers. About history (partly, the Cold War.) We write another 3 essays tomorrow.

Yesterday? Yesterday was English. Two hours of essay writing. I don’t ever want to analyze diction, syntax, or onomatopoeia ever again. (Until Thursday and next Monday, whoops!)

And the rest doesn’t get much better. Calculus on Thursday and Friday, US government, biology, and two days of French.

So who can blame me for coming home and not being in the mood to study? Besides, it didn’t take long to make these.

Jeez, I sound like a big complainer. Sorry. Despite everything, I’m happy. I know that testing will be done when May ends, and it won’t be the end of the world. When I’m done testing, it’ll be summer!

These brownies just sort of came together. Originally my break consisted of a slice of cinnamon bread and 15 minutes to check my favorite food blogs. I was browsing David Lebowitz’s archives and came across cheesecake brownies.

Oh, hello!

As I was making them, I got a bit of inspiration. I threw cinnamon and chili powder into the brownie batter and added cinnamon to the cream cheese too. Just as I was about to marble – what the heck – I added a few dollops of Nutella. Because my friends deserve it. ;)

These brownies are thick, chocolatey, and intense. They beg for milk. They were best straight out of the oven, all gooey and warm, or after a day in the fridge, when they became fudgy and the flavors more distinct. These brownies are comfort food, not that sophisticated. Some more refined tastes might argue they were too sweet, or contained too many flavors. You could leave out the nutella in that case. But me, I needed these brownies. Exactly how they are.

Cold War Brownies
Adapted from David Lebowitz
Makes a 9″ pan

Brownie
6 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into pieces
4 oz bittersweet chocolate
Rounded 1/2 cup sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
1/2 cup flour
1 tbsp Dutch-processed cocoa powder
2 tsp chili powder
2 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup dark chocolate chips

Topping
8 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 large egg yolk
5 tbsp sugar
1/8 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp cinnamon

4 tbsp Nutella

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a 9×9″ pan with foil, allowing it to hang over the edges. Lightly grease.

In a saucepan, melt the butter and bittersweet chocolate together. Remove from the heat and stir in the sugar, then the eggs. Add the flour, cocoa, chili powder, cinnamon, and salt and mix in. Finally, stir in the vanilla and chocolate chips. Spread the mixture into the prepared pan.

In a mixer, beat together the cream cheese, egg yolk, sugar, and cinnamon. Drop dollops of the cream cheese mixture on top of the brownies. Drop dollops of nutella, too. Use a dull knife to swirl the whole thing. (Alternatively, mix the nutella into half of the cream cheese mixture and swirl. Or leave the nutella out.)

Bake 35 minutes, or until just set. Let cool completely before lifting out and cutting into bars. Store in the fridge.

Printer Friendly Version – Cold War Brownies

I think I’ve probably tried a hundred brownie recipes. Every kind of chocolate, different spices, fudgey and cakey and everything inbetween. But seriously, I’d never tried any brownies like these ones before. Sometimes a recipe sounds so intriguing that you have to try it, even if it means a trip to the grocery store. These brownies are soft, rich, creamy, and fudge-like with the occasional walnut. Any idea what’s in them?

They’re black beans! I know! Delicious in burritos and salsa. Not so much in brownies. When I first read the recipe I was really turned off by the idea of black bean mixed with chocolate. Then I thought about how I always roll my eyes when I see someone grossed out by the idea of pumpkin mixed into brownies. I figured these brownies were definitely worth a shot. The recipe is from Ania Catalano’s Baking with Agave Nectar: Over 100 Recipes Using Nature’s Ultimate Sweetener and it is surprisingly good. I did get a hint of the beans, but it wasn’t unpleasant. My mom didn’t taste anything at all, and she liked these better than my usual brownies.

Black Bean Brownies

4 oz baker’s (unsweetened) chocolate
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
2 cups soft cooked or canned black beans, well drained
1 cup walnuts, chopped
1 tbsp vanilla extract
1/4 cup natural coffee substitute or instant coffee
1/4 tsp salt
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups light agave nectar or honey

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Line an 11×18 inch rimmed baking pan with parchment paper and lightly grease.

In a microwave safe bowl, melt the chocolate and butter on high for 1 1/2 to 2 minutes. Stir with a spoon to melt the chocolate completely.

Process the beans, 1/2 cup walnuts, vanilla extract, and several spoonfuls of the chocolate in a food processor for 2 minutes, or until the batter is thick and smooth.

In a large bowl, combine the remaining 1/2 cup walnuts, remaining melted chocolate mixture, coffee substitute, and salt. Mix well and set aside.

With an electric mixer, beat the eggs for about 1 minute until lightened and creamy. Add the agave nectar and beat until well combined.

Stir the bean-chocolate and chocolate-walnut mixtures together. Add all of the egg mixture except 1/2 cup, combine, and then pour into the pan.

Beat the last 1/2 cup egg-agave mixture until light and fluffy, then pour over batter in pan. Swirl with a toothpick. Bake brownies for 30-40 minutes until they’ve set. Brownies will be very soft after baking. Cool completely and refrigerate before cutting into bars.

Makes 45 2″ brownies.